Lie is Another Word for Love
by Suitslover14
Summary: When Neal gets a call from Kate after she is supposedly dead he panics. He goes in a downward spiral as Peter and his team desperately try to solve the mystery of Kate and restore order in Neal's world before they lose their friend. Will they be able to do it? How is Kate still alive? Did she ever love Neal? Will Neal ever be the same? Disclaimer: I do not own White Collar.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I would like to thank Jommy26 for their amazing prompt. Also I'm still adjusting to the White Collar world so I apologize if any of the characters seem too OOC. I hope you enjoy because this story will be around for a while. Please R&amp;R. Tell me what you think so far! **

Love. A four letter word. How could a word so short mean so much? How could it make someone's life mean something yet make someone else's meaningless? It means happiness, it means family, and it means a person there for you. But it also means obsession, depression, it means a deep wound from the break after it is lost. It makes death 10 times harder for those with a loved one and it doesn't mean anything for open who has never loved at all. How can something that is used in everyday life be so complex? It can change a person's heart; it can make them give up everything. It can convince them to throw everything away or regret for not throwing everything away. Most importantly it was _what made Neal Caffery's heart shatter when his love died. It was also what made betrayal flame up in_ his chest when he found out that it was all a lie. A lie named Kate.

…

It was just another ordinary day that started up at the FBI office. It had been a year since Kate's death and Peter and Neal's relationship had grown to mean everything. They were inseparable and Peter was all that Neal had, Neal not ranking too low on what Peter had either. They were working on a forgery case and Neal was playing the role of a corrupt FBI agent who wanted in on the game. His alias was Nathan Coyle and he was on his game the entire day. Until he walked in and his phone rang. He had picked it up, expecting it to be a call from Peter but what it was had made him loose his cover.

"Peter, I'm on my way back to the office soon." Neal had started, keeping up his image as an FBI agent whose boss was Agent Peter Burke. Flashing a wink to Pierre Hale he continued on in his confident voice. "I may be a bit late though, the traffic here is horrible."

"N-Neal. Look I know that this is confusing but I need you to hear me out." Kate's high pitched voice rung in Neal's ears, and his blood ran cold. _Kate's dead, how could she be calling me? It has to be a hoax, or someone who sounds similar._ Neal tried to reason.

"Kate, is that you? But you're dead. No, no, no you can't be alive. You just can't, I can't deal with that. I spent the last year trying to get over that and I can't see you die again, I can't see you…" So much for reason… Pierre pulled out a gun and leveled it at Neal's chest as Neal dropped the phone when he heard two words he thought he would never hear: _I'm alive. _Working on auto drive, Neal raised his hand in a surrendering gesture as Pierre and his goons escaped out the back. The shock finally wearing off Neal collapsed on the ground just as Peter and his team burst through the room. Peter ran towards Neal's side as Jones looked around and came back, verifying that Pierre was gone.

"Neal, talk to me. What wrong, were you shot, did they hit you. Dammit, Neal Talk to me. Call for a bus!" Peter growled, rolling Neal on his back to face upwards and see Peter's face.

"No, no….. I don't need the hospital. K-kate called." Neal mumbled, the exhaustion of the situation making him want to crawl up and fall asleep.

"But Kate's dead." Peter said, looking Neal over for a head trauma to explain why his partner didn't remember Kate dying.

"No, she's not, check my call history. She called me. She's alive." Neal answered, using up the last bit of energy he had and fell into a deep, uninterrupted sleep as Peter yelled at the team to track the call and find out if Kate was still alive.

….

Neal woke up 2 hours later to a room swarming with FBI agents. He was lying on the Burke's couch with a green blanket covering him and Satchamo lying next to him. His body felt numb, his mind still trying to wrap around the last few hours. _Kate's alive, she's alive and she never told me. She blew up and yet she's alive. How can she be alive? Where was she? Who had her? Who was still keeping her?_ Neal was so deep in thought he didn't notice Peter walk up behind him. Neal let out a garbled scream and bolted off the couch when Peter's firm hand landed on his shoulder. Puzzled, Peter tried to get Neal to calm down.

"Neal, hey buddy. It's okay, it's just me." Frantic blue eyes settled on the deep brown eyes that Peter was desperately trying to keep panic out of. Neal's breathing quickened and with every breath he became more panicked.

"P-peter….I…. Can't…. Breathe." Neal wheezed, pausing to gulp in a breath that didn't do him any good.

"Neal, breathe slower, like this." Peter sated, crouching down and exaggerating his breaths so Neal could copy him. But, it wasn't working and Neal was starting to turn pale, the light in his eyes was going out, and he was slumping against Peter. "Neal, come on. You can do this, you have to do this." Peter stated, desperate for some results or Neal was going to pass out.

Peter was supporting more of Neal every second that went by until he was dead weight. Turning him on his side, Peter felt for a pulse, it was too fast but not too dangerous and at least the panic attack was over. Tapping Neal's face lightly, Peter tried to wake up his unconscious CI. Slowly, Neal's glassy blue eyes opened and met Peter's.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Peter said, trying to lighten the mood. As soon as Neal had woken up all the agents in the living room had dispersed but Neal was still embarrassed at how vulnerable he was.

"Thanks." Neal muttered weakly, trying to push himself into a standing position. Neal swatted at Peter's hand that came to help him up.

Neal managed to stand, swaying a bit before blinking away the black licking his vision. He muttered and insincere goodbye and disappeared into the bedroom. _This experience is going to kill Neal unless I do something about it. _ Peter solemnly thought before returning to his team and trying to solve the mystery that was Kate Moreau.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I apologize for taking so long to update this story. Things have been crazy. I want to thank all of you for your feedback and support. Please review and tell me what you think. Thanks!**

Neal couldn't sleep, the events of the day replaying in his head over and over again. He wasn't sure what to make of it. For a year he had thought that he had lost Kate, that the love of his life was gone forever. 6 months of that had just been him getting over that fact and he couldn't believe that the whole thing was a trick. He had seen Kate on the airplane, her beautiful blue eyes portraying a goodbye and her black hair swaying in the light breeze. Neal had thought she looked beautiful-as she always does- but even more so, maybe amplified with the fact that he thought she was leaving. Neal thought back to that day, how he had raced to talk to Kate before she left. How Peter had followed him and how the plane exploding had shaken and shocked both of them. The day was bright and sunny; the sky a shade of robin egg's blue but that was before the fiery explosion that engulfed the plane. The black plume filling the air and turning the pleasant day into a nightmare. Neal let a few tears he didn't know he had been holding in fall down his face and with a squeak of the springs, shifted on the bed to face the window. He almost gasped at what he saw.

There on the balcony stood a sheepish Mozzie who was nervously cleaning his glasses. Neal wondered how long he had been there and stood up to open the door. With a clank and a thank you Mozzie strolled through the doors, facing the brown-haired, blue-eyed man he called his best friend. Mozzie motioned to sit down on the burgundy chairs that were in Neal's room and they both sat down. Neal, in only his red boxers, shrugged a black fitted t-shirt and plaid pajama pants on and settled into a chair. He offered Mozzie a blanket to protect him from the chilly night air streaming through the balcony doors. But Mozzie declined, stating that his tan long sleeved t-shirt and black slacks were warm enough. In hushed whispers, as to not disrupt The Suit, Mozzie started to talk to Neal.

"How you holding up?" Mozzie asked. Neal could see that numerous questions were bouncing around his head but Mozzie always was more concerned with Neal than answers.

"I'm fine; it's just a bit of a shock. I mean you think that for a year someone is dead and that your friends were right and she never actually loved you. And then one day you get a phone call and you know that at least part of that isn't true." Neal answered, bitterness making his words sharp and pointy.

"Neal… I know this is hard for you but aren't you curious? How did she escape? How did she survive and who did she live with after?" Mozzie asked, his eclectic and curious side getting the better of him.

"I don't know." Neal sighed, showing his vulnerable side, a side he only let Mozzie see if he could help it-which generally he could except for…. Kate- and even at that he kept it a minimum.

"Yeah, so how's it like to have the enemy crawling all over you apartment? It must be a nightmare, I hope you hid anything you didn't want Peter to find." Mozzie blurted, his paranoia coming out at full blast. He stopped insulting Peter soon after a blue-eyed glare from Neal.

Neal ran his hands through his hair, after everything that had happened he just wanted the chase with Kate to be over. He had gotten justice, Adler had confessed and Kate's mystery had been laid to rest but now…. Now all that anxiety that he never let people see, all that obsessive behavior he had towards finding Kate would be back again. He had managed to keep it a bay before, forcing himself to sleep and eat; to take a break and relax or paint. But he wasn't so sure that he would have enough energy or will power to do that this time; he was afraid that this newfound mystery may destroy him.

….

"Jones, can you track the call?" Peter barked, desperate to uncover a new lead.

"No, they used a burner phone. Or I guess she used a burner phone." Jones answered in an accented voice. He removed the headset from his chocolate brown hair and shrugged his black suit jacket off of his body. Leaving a stark contrast between his white dress shirt and his dark skin.

"She's smart, but I wish Neal had listened to her longer. He never heard what she wanted from him and that could have proven valuable." Peter answered, stating his thought process out loud in hopes of some sort of connection that could lead him to Kate.

Peter was worried about Neal, it had taken him 6 months just to get over Kate's death and Peter didn't want to imagine how hard it would be for him to see her die another time. Peter let out a frustrated humph. He thought back to those hard days where he had to pretend to not notice the number of ribs he could count through Neal's shirt and the dark circles under his eyes; the days where Neal was jumpy and never drank coffee, afraid that caffeine might fry his overworked brain. To the days where Peter had to lie to El to keep her from mothering Neal, Peter knew that Neal was private and any interference would cause him to hide and could endanger his health even more. With all those thoughts running around in his head he was beginning to think of checking up on Neal but then Jones' voice snapped him back to the mission.

"Peter!" Jones yelled, motioning for the team to follow and for someone to fetch Neal.

"What do we got?" Peter inquired, his voice smooth and tainted with pleasure.

"Someone is calling and I think it might be Kate." Jones answered.

Neal walked in, his eyes puffy. Peter didn't know if it was from sleep or lack thereof or even tears but they had a mission at hand. Peter shoved the phone in Neal's shaking hand and slid a pair of sleek, black head phones over his ears. Neal nodded, like he understood what this was for and what he had to do. Neal took a deep breath, clicked the answer button, and threw on a Caffery smile to put him in the mood.

"Caffery." Neal answered, his voice bouncy and light unlike his stormy mood.

"Hello Neal….. Kate's with me." A raspy man's voice flooded through the phone but Neal's smile never faltered.

"Long time no see." Neal answered, he just received a chilling laugh in response. "What do you want?" Neal became all business, not wanting to allow more lollygagging to occur.

"What I want Caffery, is something you already know I'm searching for. I hope you find it. Tomorrow, same time and tell you FBI friends that it was nice talking to them too." That was the line when Neal's smile finally fell off his face, his blue eyes becoming dark and dangerous, his perfect pink lips formed a line and he let out a small grunt. "Goodbye Neal, Kate's waiting." The man responded, letting out another high-pitched cackle and hung up. Leaving Neal with his dark thoughts and the object that the man was looking for. The real painting by Edward Munch, the painting everyone knows as the Scream. The painting that Neal had forged, then returned, just to have his own copy. But the man had been fooled and had been gunning for it ever since. Now Neal didn't know what to do, he didn't have it but the man wanted it. The man wanted it and Neal wanted to give it to him, to save Kate and get out of this with his own sanity.

**A/N I hoped you enjoyed it. Please review**


	3. Chapter 3

The Southern voice was one that Neal recognized. It belonged to a vulgar, aggressive, and abusive ex-employer who lives in Texas. His name was Samuel Edwards. Samuel Edwards had Kate, Neal knew Sam, it was how he had met Kate. She had been his girlfriend that the moment and Neal was working for him. Usually Neal flew solo but those were the pre-legacy days where there was no Mozzie and he was desperately trying to work up a reputation. The way Neal had found it easiest was to get a legacy to hire him. So he prepared a forgery of Vincent Van Gough's Starry night and Sam had hired him on the spot. Neal remembered every detail of that man, how white his teeth were in contrast to his Texan skin, how freckles dotted his nose and he had a single dot by his right eye. How Sam always wore his black leather cowboy boots and his lucky brown leather belt and inscribed belt buckle. Neal also remembered his vulgar and cruel personality that he could hide with an easy smile and a small sentence in his smooth, Southern drawl.

Sam was a man that people naturally trusted; he was the person who gained access to art pieces. However, being the offspring of a supermodel and an accountant, he didn't exactly have artistic genes. That's where Sam had needed Neal: the artist he could control. Everyday Sam would lead Neal to a small white room, with a sliver table, a single pale wood easel, and any art supplies he would need. Neal remembered how Sam would shut the steel door and lock him into the suffocating room after barking orders to be completed by the day, if they weren't there would be hell to pay. Neal while recalling this absent-mindedly rubbed at the small scar hidden by his beautiful dark hair. The scar that had taught Neal to do and not ask; the scar that had come from an uncompleted work and a steel chair pounding into his skull.

But those days were not always a hellish prison he couldn't escape, he had Kate. Kate would sneak in during the day and give him Ice Tea and one of her bright pearly smiles. They always gave him strength to continue working, and Neal always noticed that they seemed to have the same effect on Kate. After their visits, Kate's eyes always smiled, the blue in her eyes coming out further and she would often thank Neal for the nice encounters. Some days she would share her plans. She loved the classics and always dreamed of getting away from Sam, working with a man to complete her own cons, and with enough money, she would retire to Paris with the man of her dreams. That man turned out to be Neal and once Kate and Neal had taken enough abuse, they had quit working for Sam and flew all over the world, completing their own heists and collecting their own precious works. They had returned to new York when Neal went to prison, 3 years and months later Kate went missing.

Neal gritted his teeth at the idea that Kate was still missing and he had to find her. He punched the table in the kitchen, it was the only place in the house where he could escape Peter's awkward glances and concerned looks. Neal didn't know what he was going to do. Right before Neal and Kate had quit and run away together, Sam had wanted to steal the painting, The Scream. Sam had been hunting it for years, it was his ultimate goal. But halfway during the planning, the warehouse caught fire and destroyed all the blueprints. Soon after, they had left. Rumor stated that Sam had never stopped yearning it and had chased it for years. Sam had fallen out of the top ranks due to that and his obsession soon grew into a desire so severe, it bordered on insane. A few years back, Neal had made a forgery of the perfect painting, the soft brushstrokes and warm, mellow colors right up the easy-going conman's ally. Sam must have caught wind of the forgery that Neal had passed off as the real thing and kidnapped Kate.

But now Neal was stuck. He was stuck between Kate and Peter. Neal didn't want to let Peter down, he didn't want to be that conman that Peter had chased all those years, and he wanted to be the gentle and kind person that Peter considered a friend. He didn't want to keep giving out false smiles and deceiving hand shakes. He wanted to have friends that made him laugh, that made him want to be a better person. And as socially inept as Peter was, he was the perfect man for the job, he had always been there and was really starting to trust Neal. On the other hand, Kate was the love of Neal's life. He would die for her, and he would get that painting for her. But, Neal didn't know if Kate loved Neal or love the idea of him, the idea of a conman that could help her achieve her goals. Who could teach her to make her own forgeries and get her enough money to move to Paris. Neal didn't know how many of her ' I love yous' she had meant, he didn't know how many of her smiles had been real, how many of her kisses had been passionate. And the thought that Kate couldn't have loved him always was there in the back of his mind, lurking in the shadows, and waiting for a weak enough mind to pounce and deliver a devastating blow. This was one of those moments, and Neal knew who he cared about more, who had proven worthy, who he would trust and who he would stick by. He may have loved Kate but he wasn't willing to give up what he had built back up with Peter after Fowler and Adler. He was going to figure this out; he was going to save his Kate without burning bridges. There was one man he could trust. And that man was Peter Burke.

**A/N Sorry that it's just a filler chapter but I needed to establish background. Please review, every review makes me want to write another chapter! Thank you guys for all your support so far and I hope you like the story so. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N I know that I keep saying this but I'm sorry for the long update for such a short chapter. Summer is almost here and I will update sooner. Please review and if you like the Selection also check out A Charmingly Broken story which I will add another chapter to. **

"Peter." Neal's voice cracked on that one word and had he not been one hundred percent done, he would have kicked himself for being so vulnerable. "I need your help." Neal admitted, turning his face to his shoes so he wouldn't have to look at Peter's smug face. _That bastard, _he thought imagining the small smirk from his small victory of changing Neal.

"What with?" Peter questioned and try as he may, he couldn't keep the smile out of his voice.

"I know the man who has Kate, and I know what he wants. But I can't get it to him, without your help and a damn good forgery." Neal bit out, gritting his teeth and looking Peter square in the face. Thus, reminding Peter that while Neal was not a naturally violent man, he knew how to protect himself and who he cared about.

"_Okay tell me your plan and I will run it by Hughes." Peter sighed, hoping that the plan, that_ would certainly skirt the law, would be on the right side of the law. The one that didn't end up with Neal in an orange jumpsuit and him without a badge.

"I already have a forgery made, well… I used to. After everything with Kate, I burned it; I didn't want you to think that I was going against you again. I didn't want to lose you again. I didn't want to screw up again. But Sam he found out about it, except he thought it was the real thing. Now he wants it, but I don't have the real one or the forgery to give. However, if we can set it up and get a warrant, Peter, this man has done some pretty horrible things. He used young naïve artists who just want to paint and makes them into his slaves, to do anything and everything that he wants them to do, if we can get Hughes on board, we could take him down and rescue Kate." Neal explained, rubbing irritably at his shoulder, remembering the scars that remained on his back from being that slave to Sam. Yet, Neal had to admit; he had been asking for it, he had gone to Sam himself. That didn't make what Sam did right: turning Neal into his own personal punching bag, and whipping him until he did a good enough job.

Peter bowed his head, thinking the plan over. If he had to be honest, it wasn't bad, he was sure Hughes would jump on board and he was positive that Jones and Diana would help out. They would do anything to keep the CI out of jail because even though they would deny it, they had all grown close to the suave con-man who turned in his devilishly charming smile for a less cocky, genuine one. Peter ran his hand and went to call Hughes, nodding at Caffery. Neal did the same, only to call Mozzie, If they were going to get into Sam's apartment there had to be a tip. He was a conman after all and he still had a few tricks up his sleeve that Peter didn't know about.

"I talked to Hughes, he agrees that this could be a huge bust for us and said that with _supervision_ you can create a forgery of The Scream." Peter said with a pointed look and a mumbled _damn art freaks._

"Okay when does the operation go down?" Neal asked, his blue eyes shining at the opportunity to gain Kate back.

"Tomorrow Night, but there is something that you won't like." Peter trailed off, refusing to look Neal in his sea-blue eyes.

"Peter." Neal warned his heart spiking. Did he want him to carry a gun?

"He knows what you look like, we need to um…" Peter couldn't finish the sentence.

"What?" Neal was only a few shallow breaths from a panic attack; Peter needed to finish that sentence.

"You have to die your hair blonde. And wear colored contacts to make one eye green and one eye brown. We also have to… Well I don't know how to say this but we need to fabricate an old bullet wound on your back." Peter explained, knowing that the blonde dye would wear off in a couple of weeks.

"We can do without the bullet scar." Neal growled, he had enough scars on his back from Sam to last a lifetime, he didn't need a bullet wound too.

"Neal, it's for your cover you have to look badass not the pampered patron you look like today." Peter sighed, exasperated.

"I have scars on my back already." Neal explained, diverting his blue eyes from the mocha iris of Peter's.

"You do? Yeah right." Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah I do." Neal spat, unbuttoning his blue striped shirt and loosening his charcoal tie.

He undid every ivory button, shrugging it off. He turned around and Peter gasped. His huge hand covering his pink mouth. Peter wordlessly moved forward and peered at the whip-like marks on Neal' s back. Neal stiffened when Peter took a ling finger and traced scar after scar on his perfectly freckled skin. Peter moved his hand back when he got to the small of Neal's back where a single burn mark lay.

"Cigar." Neal stated, turning back around.

"Who?" Peter breathed.

"Sam Edwards, I was his artistic Mule. He whipped me until I did the job quick and correctly. One day I snapped at him and he burned me." Neal supplied, leaving off the part about having a steel chair smash into his head.

"I'm so sorry Neal, I didn't know." Peter apologized. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Let me nail this bastard."

Peter smirked, if there was one thing he could do, it was that.

**A/N I hoped you liked it. Please review! They make me want to update sooner!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Read, Love, Review, you know the drill. I would just like to thank Jommy26 once again for giving me this amazing prompt and I am excited for the rest of the story to happen. Enjoy!**

Neal looked in the mirror, he didn't look like himself. They dyed his hair a strawberry blonde and made his eyes two different colors. They dressed him in a black graphic T and long dark wash jeans. They put in fake earrings and painted his nails red. He was going in as the "muscle" of the operation, sure Sam had the ability to wound other people but he preferred others to do it. In this case Neal was being hired to threaten, well… to threaten himself. Although his name wasn't Neal anymore, it was Adrian Coyle. He was going in to meet Sam, get close to him, map the place out and then they would get a warrant and nail this guy. But Neal had a few other plans, he wanted to find where Kate was, he wanted to free whatever artist mule he had at the moment and he wanted to make sure that no one got hurt.

Tears bubbled up in Neal's newly colored eyes and he blinked them away. This whole process was hurting him, eating him from the inside out. He was glad that Kate was still alive but he didn't know if she had ever loved him. He liked that the past year was simple, that he wasn't at odds with Peter once they got over Fowler and Adler. It was simpler when there wasn't a girl in the picture and Peter trusted him more as his old con friends started to fade. Now Peter was on edge and Neal didn't know if he would survive this process. There was a pain by Neal's heart and he realized that he was breathing way too fast. Suddenly, his thoughts went on overdrive. There was Adler and Fowler, Sam, and Kate, Mozzie barely sticking around, Peter angry at him. Neal was on his knees now and struggling to keep conscious. His lungs felt sharp and every breath he took his heart ached more and more. Black licked the edges of his vision. He was In the FBI bathroom; all he had to do was get Peter to come. Lifting an impossibly stiff and heavy leg he crawled to the door. He pounded it open; Peter was just down the blue hallway, wrapped up in his glass office.

"Peter!" Neal cried, wincing when it burned his too dry throat and caused more pain to spike in his chest. His mind was becoming fuzzy and Peter hadn't looked up. "P-p'ter." Neal slurred, his breathing slowing down and his vision tunneling.

"What do you need Neal?" Peter spat out, looking up from his desk.

In an instant Pete was on his feet, in the door of the bathroom the newly designed Neal was slumped against the tan doorway leading to the bathroom. His eyes were closed; his pink lips parted allowing some air to get in but barely. Jones saw Peter racing through the hallway like a man with his pants on fire and followed suit. He dropped off when he saw Neal, the single person that Peter was headed towards, to call a bus. Peter reached Neal and he couldn't help but be nervous at the paleness of his skin. It was the color of milk, the fake freckles they had added on like stars against a perfectly blank sky. Tear trails led down Neal's face and his strawberry blonde hair flipped down his face. Peter gripped his hand, searching for a pulse, it was fast and thready, his breathing was shallow, and Peter was left to piece together the pieces of events.

"Neal? Dammit Neal, wake up. I need your snarky comments to make it through the morning and El needs a cooking buddy." Peter stated, trying to coax Neal's green and brown eyes to open. He stirred, groaning but his eyes remained closed. "Neal, wake up, we have mortgage fraud cases!" Peter yelled.

"P'tr." Neal slurred, his mind still fuzzy and his head ached from hitting the door a bit too hard. He blinked up at Peter and ran a manicured hand through his sandy hair. "You look funny crouching down like that." Neal stated, pointing a finger at Peter's half crouch, half slumped figure.

"Well, your brain is working enough to insult me, can you stand?" Peter asked, shooing off Jones and the paramedics that had just arrived.

"Yeah." Neal replied, pushing off with shaking arms and swatting Peter's helping hands. He rose to his normal stature only to almost collapse. With complaints, Neal allowed Peter to guide him to his couch.

"What happened?" Peter questioned once they had made it to the comfort of his couch.

"Nothing. I'm fine." Neal stated. Bowing his head, he knew that he should have told Peter how he couldn't breathe and how he panicked, and then Peter could help him. But his con-man mind kept flashing a DON'T SHOW VULNERBILITY sign whenever he even thought about it. Weakness meant defeat and defeat meant injury or death. He glared at me and I sighed.

"I don't know. All these thoughts about Sam and Kate and Mozzie and our falling out got to me. I just couldn't breathe and you weren't there." Neal stopped, coaxing his breathing back to normal.

"Neal, look at me." Peter stated and Neal blushed. Peter was trying to be gentle, comforting, he hated to see Neal so broken, the charming con-man replaced by a worn down, traumatized young man.

"What?" Neal whimpered, staring at Peter straight on.

"I know that you are scared, scared that you will lose me again but Neal. That falling out sucked, I was angry but every time I saw that you weren't there, it killed me. I need you, Neal. You are part of my life. And if you think that I can live without your mindless babbling and pointless preferences you are wrong. So, Cowboy up." Peter explained and Neal smiled at the 'Cowboy up'. Peter meant what he said and as long as Neal believed that, everything would turn out fine.

**A/N What do you guys think about Neal's new look? Do you like it, are you concerned? Don't worry, the dye washes out! Anyway, thanks for reading, I will post more soon. Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N kinda short, more background, more Peter Neal bondage. Enjoy and review!**

"Hello, Neal. Hope you still have the reminders of our time together." Sam cackled into the phone in his Southern Drawl, it as the next day, at the same time. Neal had convinced the FBI to just have Peter listen in; he didn't want anyone else to know about the scars.

"You know that I would never jeopardize the reminder of what a heartless bastard you are." Neal snapped into the phone, blinking back tears in his brown and green eyes.

"Darlin', you have always had such great comebacks, if I remember correctly, it was that smart mouth that gave you those scars. How are your seizures nowadays anyway, have they gone away?" Sam questioned, his Southern accent making the conversation sound sticky and sweet, even though it was boiling underneath.

"Seizures, I don't recall anything about seizures, just 20 blissful moments everyday when I didn't have to look at your face. Anyway, cut the crap. I have what you want but I want Kate first." Neal stated, knowing that Sam wouldn't ever go for it and would hire 'Adrian Coyle' just as the FBI planned.

"You know that I can't have that, I'll just have to hire someone to give you the gift of '20 blissful moments without your memory" again. Always a pleasure, same time tomorrow, you better have a nicer negotiation." Sam hung up and Neal smiled a triumphant grin, his plan had worked.

Peter slow clapped from his chair in the middle of the room, his mouth twisted into a smirk, the equivalent of Neal's cocky smile. Now, their plan had been set into motion, Neal was going to be hired as Adrian Coyle, and would call in to be patched into Sam's daily calls. No one would get hurt even with Sam's threats and as Neal grew closer, they would present the forged Scream. Then, while the deal is going down, Peter will arrest Edwards and Neal will go and find Kate. It was a pretty simple operation, except for the fact that Sam was unpredictable and some things could go wrong. They could never assure that Kate wouldn't get hurt in the process and if Edwards recognized 'Adrian' as Neal, the whole operation would go to hell, There was a lot riding on it.

As Neal and Peter wrapped up their mini celebration, the mood grew somber. Peter wanted to know why Neal had seizures, and how Peter never knew. Sure, things like Scars and past friends could be kept from a man chasing you down for half your life, but seizures? Those things came on quick and lasted a long time, the twitching and flailing limbs having the possibility to harm yourself further. And the 10 minute postictil period was spent in unconsciousness. He wondered how long Neal had been plagued by the convulsions, his freckled arms arcing and bowing and his blue eyes fluttering open and shut.

"Neal?" Peter cautiously asked. "Can I ask you about what he said.

"What about?" Neal replied, his shoulders tight and tense.

"How long, did the um… seizures occur." Peter blurted before he lost his couage.

"2 years, but it was before I met you, I was 17 and a smart ass. I said something, Sam got angry and burned me with the cigar. Then, he took the metal chair in the room and bashed me upside the head. They lasted until I was 19, then they stopped, doctors said it was because my brain had healed itself or something like that." Neal explained sheepishly, ringing his painted hands, and fidgeting, his back twisting and contorting, as if Neal could rid it of the scars by moving.

"Damn." It was all Peter could think of.

"Indeed, they still come every now and again. But generally, I can hide them from people." Neal admitted, sighing and plopping down into the black chair in his kitchen-well, June's but it was basically Neal's.

"Wait, so that one day when you came in late and blamed it on a bad hair day you…" peter trailed off, millions of pathways connecting in his brain to lead to his brilliant revelation. He inspected Neal, his brown eyes trailing over the conman in a deep blue tee and light wash jeans.

"Yeah, don't tell anyone. Weakness means injury or death, never reveal it to anyone but your closest allies and even then, approach with caution." Neal said, channeling Mozzie and the whole group of conspiracy theorists.

Peter nodded, his mind racing as fast as Usain Bolt. There was so much more to the charming con-man that Peter had never realized. He was special, through and through. His mind, brilliant in many qualities, his ability to create a flawless persona when he was really a broken man, his hand able to create magnificent grails and beautiful sculptures. He was unique, different, a man that the world needed. He was so broken, yet he had the brightest smile, he was so vague yet able to convey thrilling stories. He was a man that Peter considered a best friend, but he was still more than that. He was the infuriating younger brother that Peter never had, he was different in every way but someone Peter and Neal always had a connection.

"Neal, you can always put your trust in me, I'm Alcatraz." Peter vowed, his deep brown eyes set, determined to protect.

Neal cracked a grin, only Peter would make a prison reference to a former criminal. One that had managed to escape _Maxiumum Security_, while in _solitude_.

"Come on. Let's go meet Hughes for debriefing and contact with Edawrds." Neal coaxed, throwing a toned arm over Peters shoulders and walking out with every ounce of self confidence he had.

**A/N Y'all ready to meet Sam Edwards? He shall be in one of the next few chapters. Let me know what you think of this one. Review, please. You guys have been doing an amazing ob of reviewing lately and I just wanna give you guys credit, you really cheer up my day. *sniffling* Okay I'm gonna stop before I start joy crying on how amazing you people are. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N Okay, there are a few flashbacks in this chapter, they are represented by italics. I hope you enjoy. **

"So, Mr. Coyle, what makes you think that you can work for me?" Sam asked Neal who was posing as Adrian. It was a fairly simple question and Neal knew that Sam wanted a fairly simple answer.

"You asked me to do the dirty work and I can, if there's more that you want you should ask another man." Neal growled, looking Sam in his deep brown eyes that said nothing but innocence. But Neal knew, he knew it was all hoax.

"No, I don't want more. Welcome to my team and don't do anything stupid." He laughed, the laugh that sounded like the Wicked Witch of the West, like nails on a chalkboard. So high pitched, so deep down evil, you could feel it in your bones. A shiver spilling down your spine, your eyes having to squint against an invisible and bright power, and your heart suddenly clenching, protecting it from the blackness of theirs.

"Yes, Edwards, where do you want me to start?" Neal asked, his voice deeper and smoother than he ever talked when he wasn't undercover.

Sam waved him up from his silver chair. They had been in one of those rooms, the rooms that held the miserable people that Sam hired. It was white all around, as if to remind them that they were nothing, they had no color, no name, and no personality to Sam. Neal had to hold back a scream as the metal chair screeched as he moved back; it was too similar… too similar to that one time.

_ "Neal! This isn't what I wanted! You used too much yellow." Sam spat circling Neal like a shark circling prey. His brown cowboy boots were making clicking noises as he moved, as if emphasizing every word that evil man said. He smiled, a sadistic smile, as if saying you are nothing but a pawn to me. _

_ "It's not like you gave me an order." Neal snapped back, knowing that would get him in trouble. But he was sick, sick of being treated like nothing, treated of being squashed down by a higher power. _

_ Sam scowled a lunged. Pulling back the silver chair, he screamed at Neal, screamed and screamed, and to the beat of his words, he beat Neal on the head. As if to pound his words into Neal's head. Neal held back grunts and screams, he didn't want to be weak, he didn't want to give Sam a weakness. So he held out until everything faded to black, until everything was numb. _

Neal blinked, trying to get rid of the flashback; he lost what Sam was saying. All he was doing was thinking of that, how that was what made him hate the rich. They held power over the poorer population, and that made it okay from him to steal their paintings and sculptures that they would never miss. They wouldn't truly care, they only care that they lost a bit of their reputation. Sam led them down a small black hallway that emerged into a room. A room that was shared, a boy about 16 was sleeping in one of the beds, tear tracks left on his face. His hair was a fiery red; almost the color of blood and freckles dotted his face. Then in another bed, there was another man that Sam probably hired to make the negotiations, he was the lawyer type but he was muscular. A tattoo stood out on his neck, stretching its navy fingers up into his black hair. Then, there was Neal_'s _bed who was still posing as Adrian. It had black sheets and a single red towel for showering on it. Neal peeled back the covers, wishing that he had had this when he was with Sam. Too long had he gone without sleep….too long?

_Before the incident, before the seizures and the blackness and the angry Sam, Neal worked. He worked on paintings and paintings for Sam. He never slept, Sam would whip him if he did. Too many times had he closed his eyes and been awoken by a whip. _

_ "Caffery, wake up!" Sam growled, pulling off his beautiful leather belt. _

_ "What?" Neal groggily replied, his eyelids being pried open against his will by Sam's loud, raspy voice. _

_ "You are not allowed to sleep in the job, 20 lashes." Sam dictated. _

_ Sam reeled his hand back, ignoring the other 5 scars that Neal had earned from sleeping or a bad project. Or just from Sam having a bad day and needing someone to take it out on. It always had to be Neal. He hit Neal, a sickening slap erupting into the room as his back sting from the first hit. Neal grunted, knowing that he couldn't contain the pain, all he could do was kept back the tears. Sam hit him again and again, the same spot 20 times over. Blood gushed down Neal's back and shoulders. Sam set him back down into the chair, another blood stain coating the pristine white carpet. Neal painted, painted until the rage and depressive feelings left and he could drift into a light sleep, because the project Sam wanted was done. But so was Neal, Neal was done. But that was before him and Kate, before they ran away, before he met Peter and before he was completely done with conning. _

"Neal?" Peter's voice pulled Neal out of his vicious thoughts.

"Peter, he wants me to stay here, we'll have to patch it into a conference call in order to make it work." Neal whispered as he made his way to the bathroom, a much more private place.

"That'll probably work, but Neal?" Peter responded.

"Yeah?" Neal asked.

"You Okay?" Peter asked, shifting from one foot to another, the noise drifting through the earpiece.

"I'm fine, Cowboy Up remember?" Neal replied, his charm flowing through the phone.

"Neal. Really? Does it remind you of everything? Are you okay? Have you had any stress induced seizures?" Peter's voice got quieter at the last question.

"I'm fine Peter. A few bad memories here and there won't keep me from doing this for you. And no, no seizures." Neal sighed; he wanted to say it was his job, but it wasn't because he wasn't equal to Peter and never would be.

"Okay, Neal. And we're doing this because it's our job. Neal, you're my partner, you are equal to me ." Peter replied, he caught the slight waver at the you in Neal's last response. They were a team, no matter how many times Peter threatened it, he would never send Neal back to jail. Unless he did something really stupid.

"Thank you… Partner." Neal whispered before hanging up, a smile on his face and a warmth in his heart. He would do this, they would do this.

**A/N Sam is a wicked human, isn't he? I hoped you liked this chapter. Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N I'm not very happy with this chapter but I got it done. I hope you do enjoy it though. **

Sam had ordered Adrian to punish Patrick, the teen boy that Neal had seen the night before. The one that had red hair and a fountain of freckles trickling down his face. He was the new Neal, the mule, the one that did commissions. But Neal couldn't do it, not to this kid, not to the one person who he thought of as a little him. A person he could warn, and save. So he twisted around to face Patrick, who was still trembling, his pale face taught and his eyes holding a look of pure terror, and dropped the belt. He flinched.

"Okay, I don't want to hurt you, I want to help you. So here's the plan, you go out there and say that you beat me up. For whatever reason, Sam will respect that. I don't know why it works but it does." Neal explained and Patrick relaxed. His shoulders slumped and an easy smile lit up the kid's face.

"What will we have as proof?" He asked, the corner of his mouth twitching with anxiety.

"I'll figure something out." Neal winked and pushed him out the door, leaving him to tell Sam.

All that Neal had to do was induce a seizure; he hadn't had one for months. But Neal knew that all he had to do was let his memories flow free. So he studied the bloody patches on the carpet and willed the years of beatings he had took to come to mind. The door slid open right as Neal hit the ground, twitching, but in blissful unawareness. He was free.

Neal woke up on his cot, the black blanket wrapped around his form. He mind felt fuzzy and his head hurt. He shifted in the bed, trying to catalogue injuries, only to be stopped by a voice.

"You okay." It asked, airy and light, magical.

"I'm fine." Neal sat up and slowly turned.

She was as beautiful as ever. Her black hair had grown to halfway down her back, and she had it in a elegant braid. Her blue eyes were searching over him, looking for anything to contradict her statement. Her pink lips were in a small smile and she looked happy. She was wearing a maxi dress, the navy fabric twirling her frame, showing off every curve. She looked gorgeous, just like when she used to be with Neal, when they were together. Nate, Mozzie used to call them, it was their combined name. But Neal didn't understand why she was happy, she was being held hostage By Sam. Unless… Neal shook his head, chasing his thoughts away and putting on a brilliant smile.

"I'm Adrian, and you are?" Neal inquired, sticking out his hand.

"Kate, are you sure you're okay, you had quite a fit back there?" She wasn't so easily convinced

"I'm a tough man." Neal replied smoothly, leaning down to kiss the top of her had. She pulled back and Neal couldn't help but feel rejected.

"I suppose you are. Sam admires Patrick now; I don't think I'll ever understand that man." Kate admitted shaking her head slowly.

"Good for the kid, not so good for me. How's Sam feeling about me?" Neal asked, genuinely concerned for his cover, he had to get Kate out, and Patrick.

"You are fine in his mind, Patrick stated that you turned you back to grab the belt and he got spooked. He took a chair and rammed it into your head." Kate said, running her hand through his blonde hair, looking for any cuts. Neal winced, too similar to the past event.

"Good." Neal replied.

Kate got up after determining that 'Adrian' would be fine, stating that she had to get back to Sam or there would be hell to pay. Conveniently, Peter's voice floated into the earpiece not too long after.

"What happened? If you lie to me, Neal I swear you will be back in orange so fast it'll make your head swim." Peter growled, concern leaking out into Neal's ear.

"Peter, I couldn't hurt Patrick, he's just like me. A young boy who is being punished for not doing Sam's work good enough. So I told him to claim he beat me up, he got out of the whipping and gained some respect." Neal explained and Peter softened.

"What aren't you telling me. You are evading the question." Peter sighed, what was he going to do with Neal?

"Well, in order to prove that he indeed hurt me, Iinducedaseizurebutimfinerightnowsoyeah." Neal babbled, hoping that he talked too fast for Peter to understand.

"Neal! You did what? You induced a seizure. Neal…." Peter trailed off knowing that just a little bit longer and he would have been yelling.

Peter was worried, Neal was taking this case too seriously. He allowed himself to possibly be injured just to save a kid. Yes, Peter was proud that Neal cared that much, that he really wanted to change, that he wanted to get Kate back legally, but what if it cost him his sanity, or his life? All that Peter wanted was for Neal to come back in one piece, not shot or stabbed or depressed. Hell, he just wanted Neal, the man that wasn't Caffery, but the one who smiled and wanted to help, the one who thought about his actions and tried to get along with Jones. He wanted the real man behind the smooth language and the bright smile. Because they were partners. But Peter didn't always get what he wanted and what he heard over the earpiece made his blood run cold.

"I knew that you were familiar, welcome back Neal." Kate's voice floated though the earpiece.

**Thanks for reading, please review.**


	9. Chapter 9

** A/N I couldn't help but think about the song Human as I wrote this. I just feel like it relates so much to the chapter. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. **

"I think you are mistaken." Neal said, turning around. But his eyes, his soul, his being betrayed him. His smile couldn't drive away the tears coating his eyes, his charm couldn't cover up his yearning, and his pain from the loss of her couldn't cover up her love. Because she was his girl. She could break his heart a million times and he wouldn't give up. He was Forrest and she was Jenny, no matter how many times they were separated, they always orbited back. Like two boomerangs starting from the same place but thrown in opposite directions.

"Don't try to fool me, Neal." Kate smiled, and Neal melted again, his real smile replacing his fake one, and his arms separated, waiting for her.

Kate sat on the bed and leaned in. It was just like old times, just like her and Neal, just like peas and carrots. He was back and Kate was in his arms. She loved Neal; it wasn't something that she expected. Not from why they originally met. He was the screwed up mule, and she? She was the sadistic leader's girl. She never expected to love him, never expected his charm to work on her. But she was right in one way, his charm never worked on her. The fake him, the Caffery side, wasn't who she loved. She loved the Neal, the side that loved Mozzie, the side that was just a boy who had lost his mother, his father, who was broken and beaten, and yet. Yet, he still managed to smile, to pretend that everything was okay, that everything was going to be okay. He saw the bright side in life. And she loved that, she loved that he took everything in stride, that he just accepted things for how they were and moved on.

"It never worked anyway." Neal said and he just smiled. He took her, everything that he missed about her and he embraced it. He loved the way she smelled, like lilacs and gunpowder. He loved how she talked, her voice light and airy, yet holding potential, the potential to fight, to yell, to be aggressive and fight for what she believed in. He loved that she didn't take his fake him, that she only accepted the broken him that nobody tried to reveal.

Except Peter, except the Agent that had taken faith in him. Maybe not trust, but faith. Taking his life, his job, his marriage and putting it at risk. For a con-man that he had chased, had lost years to. And Neal couldn't help that revealing his cover was betraying that. He couldn't help but feel like he had a choice. The same choice that he had a year ago. The choice that had ended wrongly. He knew that the right choice was Peter, that everything good and sold in his life pointed to Peter but…. But his heart loved Kate. His soul told him to turn to Kate like a compass. And he just couldn't choose, he couldn't choose and he had to. But for now, he just pushed it down and moved on. Because he had Kate and for now, he didn't have to choose, he could just enjoy Kate.

"I missed you." Kate whispered into Neal's ear.

"I missed you too, you know what this means right?" Neal asked, they had a tradition, that whenever they got separated and found their way back they would do.

"Sherlock Holmes?" Kate asked, knowing that was exactly what he was talking about.

"What's a reunion without the one story about Sherlock's girl that got away?" Neal asked, prying open the book and settling down.

…

Peter relaxed when the conversation between Kate and Neal did not go down the path of death and covers blown. But that didn't mean that he was happy about it. So when Haversham showed up on his porch step wanting to talk, he let him in. Peter needed every view point he could get.

"Suit, there's something I need to tell you." Haversham stated and strolled through the door.

"What is it?" Peter sighed, he was hoping that this didn't have to do with Neal. He just didn't want it to be Neal, because Neal was already broken and didn't need to be hurt again.

"Kate, I have information on Kate and you won't like it." Haversham said, going into the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of El's earthy red wine.

"What is it?" Peter ran a hand down his face. He was bone tired, stressed, and really didn't wat any more trouble for Neal.

Haversham took his time, he sat down on the beautiful couch in Peter's living room and set his wine glass on the table. Crossing his legs and cleaning his glasses, Mozzie looked at Peter. Then Peter understood, Mozzie didn't want to keep this from him, he wasn't stalling because it would get him in trouble. He was stalling because no matter how many times Peter thought Mozzie couldn't care less about his CI, he really did look out for Neal, and Mozzie knew this would hurt him. Mozzie knew that Peter would have to tell Neal, he knew that he would have to allow Neal to ride out the pain, and keep him from doing anything stupid. He knew, he knew, he knew. So he sat down and allowed Mozzie to take a few calming breaths before beginning.

"Kate loves Neal, we both know that. But the thing is, Suit, Neal loves her more, he would die for her, he will trust her and do everything to keep her happy. But that is their plan. Because, Kate loves Neal but she is in love with Edwards. She loves him as a friend, but we all know that in this business, friends are weaknesses that have to be eliminated. Edwards is using Kate to harm Neal." Haversham explained, downing his wine throughout the sentences.

Peter had to get Neal out of there, because Kate was with Neal and Neal had no intention of changing that.

**A/N Yay, visit by the little man, thanks Jommy26 for the suggestion. I hope you like it, I can't believe that I'm already on Chapter 9, this is the longest running story I have ever written. Thank you guys for all of your support. Please review. Love y'all **


	10. Chapter 10

Neal blinked open his blue eyes, he didn't have to hide them from Kate anymore so before he went to 'bed' with her, he had removed him. He turned over toward Kate only to find an empty space. Grumbling, he rose and made his way to the small, grey bathroom, where he could insert the contacts, bush his teeth, and change back into his appropriately punk clothing. It was going to be a long day; Sam had expressed interest in having Adrian track down the FBI Agent that seemed to be monitoring Caffery's every move. While he was on the move, Sam was going to patch in a call to Neal, which meant that Neal had to hightail it to Peter's place or the entire operation was blown. And he couldn't have that, not when he was this close to Kate, again.

Neal finished getting ready, grabbed his wallet and set out as Adrian, a cover. He strolled down the New York streets, crossing sidewalks and taking in the beauty if the city that he called home, coming to a stop at the corner, he waved at a small figure reading a newspaper. The man rolled it up and tipped his hat, reaching down and pulling out a small, plaid cloth to clean his glasses with, peter may not realize it but Mozzie sure did know how to blend in and keep watch. Neal crossed the street and Mozzie continued his own merry way from the Burke's house. But Neal didn't know that, and really didn't need to know that Mozzie had gone to The Suit. So when Neal stopped in front of the front door and knocked, he was surprised to hear Peter's greeting.

"Haversham, if you came back to ask for any more of my wife's wine I will lock you out there with Satchamo." Peter had responded before freezing, paling, and then inviting Neal in without a word.

"Taking visits from the Little Man now?" Neal asked his tone confident, but with subtle hints of worry and betrayal.

Mozzie was the only person who really knew all of Neal, the con-man, the man, and the broken being. He knew him through and through and Neal didn't want to know what he had revealed to Peter. Not that he didn't trust Peter; it was more of Peter didn't trust him. At least not all the time and Neal really didn't want Mozzie screwing anything up with too much information. So when he sat down, he tried to hide the wince on his face from the hints of Mozzie in the room. The cork from a wine bottle laying on the plush carpet, the faint smell of cologne, and the subtle tilt of the coffee table where Mozzie had 'bumped' into it, leaving a small square note tacked onto a table leg with information should Peter need further contact. Peter didn't make things any easier, his face pale and screwed up ina guilt-ridden expression: his blonde eyebrow slightly furrowed, few drops of sweat beading on his forehead, and his brown eyes darting around, settling on anything but Neal.

"Neal, it's not what you would think." Peter hurriedly said, setting up to explain. Neal just nodded, his jaw clenched, waiting for the same explanation. "Haversham had some… details relating to the case."

"Details?" Neal all but wailed, what was Mozzie thinking. This was him and Kate and him and Kate and him and Kate! He had longed for this yearned for their reunion and Mozzie may have screwed it up. Normally he would control himself but he was tired, tired of being treated like a pawn, tired of being taken care of, tired of being underestimated.

Peter shushed Neal; he was getting so worked up. Like Haversham had given away enough evidence for a life sentence and not details to save Neal's life. To save his sanity and his jail free environment. Neal was pacing, grunting, and clutching at his beach colored hair. Peter wanted to comfort him, stop him and explain, but he needed a course of action, a plan before telling Neal. He couldn't just come out and tell Neal that Kate was using him, that wouldn't work. Neal would just deny it and storm out. He would lose Neal if he did that, and the one thing that Peter needed to come out of this with was Neal.

Neal was breathing faster, moving faster, and making his brain think faster. He was blinking away tears and screams and he didn't know why. He didn't know why his eye kept twitching or why his mouth felt dry. He didn't know why his head throbbed or his legs felt a bit wobbly. He didn't recognize the signs of an impending seizure, he didn't know that his emotions were getting out of hand, but he did notice that his brain was fuzzy. So his brain moved faster trying to figure out why, while his twitchy eye became a twitchy face and the face became an arm and the arm became a leg and so on until his whole body was shaking. Until he was unaware of anything around him and of the panicking FBI Agent he left in the world of the conscious.

Peter didn't even think twice when he saw Neal's eye twitching rapidly. He just thought it was a nervous tick he never saw because Neal Caffery was never nervous. So when his arm started twitching, he put that out to anxiety too. Denial coating his mind and features, making his only focus on Neal unraveling in an emotional sense. He was worried-as he should be- that Neal was becoming too untrusting, too independent, too connected to Kate. Sure, Peter loved El and would shoot anyone that hurt her but he wouldn't push people away for her sake. He wouldn't let her rule his mind until he couldn't work or function or trust his friends. He just wanted the thing to be over, for his plan to get Neal out before he got hurt, to commence. Really, he just wanted a Neal Caffery to be alive and well. And on that note in his mind, Neal had collapsed into a full on seizure. _Alive and Well_ rang out one last time as Peter knelt down next to Neal and tried to recall everything about seizures he had ever learned.

**A/N Just blah. I'm not happy with this chapter and that's why it took so long to write. I hope that you guys at least enjoyed it a little, as long as I didn't let anyone down then I'm good even if I do sulk in a corner until I get some reviews to boost my confidence. Have a great day!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N I know that it has been awhile, I've been super busy, my sister went to Germany and we adopted a kitten. I hope you like it. Its really,really short. More of a preview than a chapter. I'll try to update soon. Thanks for being patient!**

Peter watched as Neal slowly regained consciousness, his head lifting from the floor. His eyes blinking, clearing away the last remnants of confusion. Peter sighed a breath of relief, and geared up to talk. He knew that Neal would be tired, limited mobility for about 15 minutes, but mostly coherent. Which gave him the perfect opportunity to talk to Neal, clear things up. He just couldn't let Neal leave mad, broken, damaged. Not when Kate was about to break his heart, take away his trust, and get him killed in the process. He had hadn't convinced Hughes to let him stop the operation, but he could at least tell Neal, give him a warning about the danger of Kate knowing who he was. So he rolled Neal onto his back, lifted him up and settled him on the couch.

"Damn it Neal, Mozzie didn't tell me anything. He didn't tell me a thing about your past, about your 'alleged' schemes, or your family. Nothing. Okay? What he did tell me will help me save your life and keep me from filing a hell of a lot of paperwork. So you will shut up and listen. Do you understand me?" Peter sternly stated. Neal nodded his head, Peter continued. "Mozzie told me how to save your life. "

Neal bolted upright. His life? He never knew it was in danger, and Mozzie… What did Mozzie know? Peter saw the confusion in his face and went to explain. "Kate is using you. She… she played a long con. She loves Sam, you were just a plan. Sam wants revenge…he wants to, h-he wants to kill you." Peter explained, not so harshly as before.

It was too much for Neal to process and function, so he closed his eyes, and fell into a deep, twisted slumber. Kate carrying knives and painting laughing at him. Kate, kate who loved him, who he loved. Who really just conned him, loving Sam all along. Neal was alone, he cried as he slept, and Peter watched vigil, waiting for Neal to awake. So he could prove that Neal wasn't alone. He had him.

**A/N I know, its so short *sob* I will update as soon as I can, I need to stop typing now, my kitten is trying to chew my arm off because my fingers are moving to type. Bye, we shall talk again! **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N Filler chapter, sorry, but the next one will be exciting, promise. Enjoy this one for the moment though. Please Read ad Review. Love ya guys!**

Neal writhed and squirmed, his face expressing a million emotions that were generally washed away by his nonchalance. His nose crinkled and he whimpered a pitiful noise Peter was not used to hearing from Neal. He had heard desperation, agony, depression, and frustration. But a noise so gut-wrenching you have to feel sorry for the guy? It just didn't happen. Neal had been asleep for awhile now, and while Peter knew he needed it, he felt guilty for letting him have it. Because every dream was filled with fire and Kate and betrayal that made Neal seem so… human. He always seemed like a robot, Spock that was more social. He was always in control. But when he was sleeping, you could see through the cracks in his armor. See the pale skin and the faded tear stains, the scars on his heart, and the stress wrinkles on his face. You could see it all, his life in a million different ways. So Peter let Neal sleep, running his fingers through the dyed locks and channeling the loving presence of El, his beautiful wife.

Neal awoke slowly, his mind rested in a sleep sense but it was racing. He hated Kate for not loving him. He had fought for her, went back to jail for her, worked with the FBI for her. And she… she pretended to love Neal for Sam. Sam! The same man who she witnessed beat the living crap out of every single prodigy he ever recruited. How could she? His blood boiled and he stormed out of the Burkes, before Peter could even react, stop him, or say a single thing. Neal ran, his shoes clattering on the hard concrete, his blonde hair ruffling into the wind. It was fading a bit but it just looked like the fall was darkening his hair. He liked running, the feeling of pushing himself. It was a challenge, a challenge that he could not breathe properly for a while, that he could strain his muscles, and that he could stay upright and not fall. So he pushed on, enjoying the bite of the wind, the color of the trees as he passed brown, red, yellow trees. He jumped over a bench and kept going. Swerving to miss dogs, people and everyone in between.

He pushed the door to Sam's warehouse open and raced into the room. He grabbed a pen and paper, and sat down. He had to write a report of what he had done to the Agent. What he should have done. What Sam wanted him to do. With clenched teeth, he lied. Stating a few broken ribs, a sprained wrist, and a possible concussion. He hated that he had to do this. That Hughes wouldn't let him out. His cover had been blown, but Hughes refused to believe that Peter's source was reliable. That Mozzie could possible know what he was talking about. He signed the note by his alias and slid it under Sam's door. He snorted and went off to find Patrick. If he could, he just wanted to hang out with the kid, show him that he was safe. That Neal would get him out.

But when he reached the young boy's room- _Prison, cell, box, cage_ Neal thought, it suited it better; but still referred to it as a room- it was empty. Patrick not seated in a pristine white stool. Instead there was a cross on the table. Neal knew that meant that Sam had lost him, had returned to find the kid had run. The cross to symbolize a death, but resurrection. For Sam, a death in that the kid was gone, a resurrection in that a new prodigy with a better skill in an area the kid was lacking would replace Patrick. Neal smiled, because there had to be a cross when Neal left. That he had lost Neal, Neal who was one of the best forgers for his age. He smiled too because Patrick made it out, he escaped. To a better life, a better world. And he didn't have a love who was a con woman, so he wouldn't be stuck in a life of crime. To be put in a cell, to be condemned to always being an evil man. And Neal felt victorious that a kid was back to being normal, to be on a track to heaven. It was a win to him.

Feeling much better he returned to the bed in the shared room, pulling the black comforter back up and crawling in. He clutched his phone and waited, waited to be patched into a conversation with Sam where Sam still believed that Neal thought his cover was intact. They still had a lead on Sam, they just had to play their cards right and pray that his temper never flared, that he never decided to just end it. To just kill Neal and escape, without jail time, without a care, but with the woman that made it all happen. Kate.

Kate, Neal thought, was a name that should never be used again. Because to him it meant love and hate, trust and betrayal, it meant contradictions, it meant hurt. But most of all it meant that he would never have his happily ever after. And sometimes, the villain should deserve a happy ending. Especially when they are trying so damn hard to free them self of their evil. He deserved a happy ending, and he decided that his was going to be living his life. With Peter, with El. With everything good and happy. With a man who was his best friend, the only one who trusted him, the man who would die for him.

After all, Peter was the only one who was willing to do that. And it felt good to have a man like that.

**A/N Free time! I got a chapter done. Ha-ha! Yeah. Just wait for the next one, suspense is next to come. Mahwahahaha. Thanks for being so patient with the updates guys! Love ya!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N Okay so this is a shorter chapter, and I know that it's been awhile but I've been preparing for school to start back up. I have Summer homework and only 3 weeks left to complete it. I'll try to update sooner but I appreciate your patience. I hope you like it. **

Hands, ripping, tearing, gripping, moving Neal. His eyes burning from tears, his blonde hair tugged again and again and again. He cried out, Kate kicked him in the stomach. Kate, kate who used to soothe him when he was sick, who used to check up on him, who used to love him. Neal bucked, trying to free himself from the ruffians pinning him down. Because that's where they were then. On the ground, Sam and Kate and the others too tired to carry a bucking Neal. They had him pinned and he struggled. He whirled around and bit one of the associates, causing their hand to bleed. But he didn't even flinch. He landed a kick to Kate and winced, because his heart betrayed him. He knew that kate didn't love him, that she was a part of _this_. But his mind could not let him hurt her, couldn't imagine her dying (again), and so kicking her hurt him more than it hurt her. He stopped for a moment and a few people toppled over him, not expecting the struggle to end so quickly. Neal swiveled his head around and locked eyes with Sam, the wicked man winked, pulled out a needle and smiled.

"Let's see your precious Agent get you out of this 'Adrian'" Sam cackled, injecting the needle into Neal's arm.

"He'll….." Neal panted, his vision going blurry. That drug worked fast. "He will. he'll ome,'ll come,come,om,mmmmm." Neal mumbled, his eyes closing, pulling him under the inky blackness.

Doctors say that unconscious patients can still hear voices. Neal could verify that claim, because every step of the way he could hear Sam's raspy voice and Kate's sweet one. But something that the doctors didn't know was that Neal was very aware of pain. His head throbbed, his chest ached, and his arm burned. He tried to move but his arms were pinned down (by his mind or restraints he didn't know), he tried to talk but his mouth couldn't move. He tasted oil and dust and realized he was gagged, unable to moan or scream or give away where they were. He tried to figure out where they were but thinking caused his mind to spin, his breathing to quicken, and his chest to burn. So he settled for lying still and listening. To Sam, to Kate, to the blur of noises along the way.

"Sam, what if… what if the drug you know, kill him?" Neal heard Kate ask Sam, a note of worry in her voice. Neal's heart pinched, she still cared about him, just not enough. It wasn't that he wasn't important; he was just her second choice. Silver instead of Gold and that hurt more than being not chosen. But Neal pushed that to the back of his mind, focusing on catching Sam's response.

"Don't you worry honey, the drug is only a paralytic, and they use it in the ER all the time. Besides we've got this tube down his throat, he has oxygen." Sam replied, bitterness seeping into an unnaturally kind tone. Sam was a walking oxymoron, even his speech bleed contradiction.

But it finally made sense to Neal; he wasn't unconscious, just sedated and paralyzed. He wasn't gagged, but intubated (not that having a tube down his throat was better). He just hoped that Sam would give him some Morphine (unlikely).

As they moved Neal, Sam inserted a second dose, along with a stronger sedative. One that had just enough kick to put Neal fully under. So Neal's pain faded away, his mind slowed, the voices became muddy and faded away, and he was finally alone, in a sea of darkness.

**A/N *sighs* So short… It breaks my heart that this was all I could write in the time I had. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Until next time, I hope you guys have happy days. **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N It's been so long. Too long. Now, I don't' want this to be a pity chapter. I don't want it littered with apologies. I'm gonna keep it simple. I'm sorry, life has gotten in the way, high school has taken a lot out of me. But I've written this, and I thank you all for your patience. **

Neal sucks in a deep breath, his eyes fluttering open. His throat burns and he barely has time to straighten when there's Sam. And he's all over him, pacing, tightening, chuckling. Everything swims in Neal's vision, but he fights it. He's been fighting his whole life. He just has to hold out for one more fight.

He's been told he's worth less than dirt. He's been treated as such. He's grown up without a father, with Mozzie as an influence, with everything in his life seemingly wrong. But he fought, he clawed his way through life, covering up the fact that he was a broken, broken man inside. Because on the outside he was Caffery, suave con-man. That's the one Peter met and hated, Neal was the man that Peter became friends with, took care of, and if he had to be honest, loved. So Neal was going to fight this tooth and nail.

"You won't get away with this Sam, they know who you are." Neal spat out, barely thrown off from his lightweight ankle. They had cut off his tracking anklet, he figured as much, Sam may not be the nicest, but he sure wasn't stupid.

"Maybe not, but it doesn't matter. You see Neal, I'm already dying. I'm a ticking time bomb, but I don't want to leave this Earth without seeing you suffer." Sam responded, snapping his fingers.

Kate stepped out of the shadows. Her eyes were red rimmed, her cheeks slightly puffy. Neal tried to feel sympathy for her-she has obviously been crying- but she had played him and he didn't have it in him. So he looked away when she met his eyes. Crystal blue on Crystal blue. She really did love Sam, and it had to be hard to see him die. But for the second time Neal couldn't find any sympathy. It was only right for the world to rid Sam Edwards of this Earth, for him to be damned to the depth of hell. And Kate could go with him, because she sold her soul a long time ago.

"Oh yes, this will be fun, so very very fun." Sam cackled, Neal winced on the inside, but kept his composure.

"It's not any fun if I'm unconscious." Neal answered smugly, hoping to throw off Sam's game.

"But you won't be unconscious-when it starts."

Neal winced that time, his cheeks screwing up in pain. Sam stepped forward, a hot poker in his hand. He circled Neal, like a shark, waiting for the right time. His boots clacked on the floor, tip-tapping in a weird version of a clock. Neal squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of dizziness broke over his slumped form. Sam stepped forward, putting his hand on Neal's shoulder. He ripped the fabric of the black tshirt, and drove the searing poker into Neal's skin.

Neal cried out, gritting his teeth. He glared at Sam, who smiled victoriously, swapping out the poker for a whip. Ripping the rest of the shirt from Neal's tattered body, he reeled back.

"For old time's sake, Neal. You see, I have found a place in my heart for nostalgia." Sam whispered, sending a shiver down Neal's spine.

With a crack, the whip collided with Neal's back. Over and over, he was beaten, new wounds littering his back. Neal fought back tragic memories of the past. Volleying over the side of sanity. Again and again, as the strokes came, he bit back screams. He fought back the panic, trying not to have a panic attack. It was hard, but as the last stroke was laid upon his shoulder, he knew he had won that battle.

"That's all you've got?" Neal yelled.

Sam just smirked. He disappeared into the back room. Neal met Kate's eyes then. She looked shaken, traumatized, like a baby deer watching its mother shot. Neal's eyes locking onto her, in a way implying _you're allowing this to happen. You love the man whose killing me. _Kate looked away, a pink flush coating her cheeks. Neal felt hatred. For the first time he hated Kate, she was weak. She wasn't the one to stand up, she just sat by the side lines. She was the pedestrian sitting at the side of the road, watching a hit and run. Only to get up and walk away. She was pathetic, she never took her own life into her hands.

All at once, all the love he felt for her was washed away. Only a dull ache in his chest reminding him of once was. When he got out of this he would be fine. Because Kate didn't control his life any more. She couldn't even control her own.

A thought popped into his head and Neal smiled. He knew exactly how to play Kate's disadvantages. And all it took was Sam staying in the back room. He had a plan, and he wasn't going down without a fight.

**A/N I hoped you liked it. Until we meet again, keep on reading **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N I'm back. Y'all who are still in school must be like me, stuck learning. I miss the lazy summer days when I didn't have 7 classes. But it's nice to be back. As always I hope you enjoy the fic. Please don't be afraid to leave a review. **

"Kate" Neal gurgled, blood spilling out over his pale, pink lips.

Kate's head bobbed up, her brown hair sticking to her wet face. She snuffled and slunk closer.

"Yes, Neal?" She asked her voice stone cold. But Neal knew that voice, it was the voice she used to cover up years of hurt, of pain, when all she wanted was something clinical, emotionless, dead. She couldn't have people all over the world reading her and her past when she was conning after all.

"Look, I kn-" Neal broke off, coughing long and hard into his arm. He winced and turned towards Kate again. "I know you love… _him._" Neal spat bitterly. "But I also know that you don't like to see me hurt." He paused intentionally here, as if he had passed out, and let his head hang limply for a moment. He was conning Kate, he had to if he wanted a way out. Out of here, out of dying.

He felt the chair shake as Kate leaned forward on it, her pale hands running over Neal's forehead, searching for an infection-caused fever. Even though it was way too early for that. He lifted his head, his eyes drooping, and his face slack. He smiled loopily, before sobering, like a man regaining focus.

"Will you help me?" He asked, his blue eyes filling with translucent tears. Kate's face contorted again, her lips screwing into a frown.

"I don't know. " She choked out. Her gaze falling to the floor.

"I'd really appreciate it, it wouldn't take much. I just need you to distract Sam, so I can limp out the door. Then all you have to do is tell him I'm still in the building." Neal pleaded, his eyes squinting against the harsh light; he let his head fall forward again. His forehead cracking against the chair, making Kate jump.

"Okay, Okay I'll do it. Just…. Be careful." Kate screeched, gathering up his head in her hands and petting his hair down.

Neal bit back a smile as Kate bent down, releasing the restraints on his hands and feet, She then stood up, wiped her face and walked, stoic, to Edwards. Three short taps and the door creaked open, the women he once loved slipping inside. Crashing was heard inside and Neal shuddered, because he did not want to know what _that_ distraction was and why it was so _loud. _But his mind could supply him with all the answers he didn't want, their lips crashing together, her distracting him with kissing.

Neal paled, almost gagging. Shaking his head, he tentatively pushed up out of the chair. He bit harshly on the back of his cheek as his back burned. A thousand bees stinging it, sending tendrils of pain straight down his spine. His eyes watered and he shut them, groping for the chair. He pulled himself up, ignoring the pain and stumbled toward the door.

He stopped when the deadbolt lock wavered in his vision. When it looked too hard, when he wanted to give up.

_I need you to survive. _A voice like Peter's flooded Neal's mind and he sighed. He was so tired, but still. He gripped the lock and slid it over, the metal gliding in the rusted divot.

He pushed the door open, stepped outside, and fell back.

A loud pop echoing in the- now- night air.

"No!" Someone cried. But Neal didn't care, he was already on the group, his limbs limp, his mind blank, a deep maroon liquid seeping out of his dark pants.

**A/N Sorry for the cliffie, figured I'd add in suspense after such a long wait. Again, thank you for your patience! I love you guys and I hope you leave reviews, they make my daaaaaay!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N I apologize for the end of this chapter right here and right now. I'm sorry!**

"You idiot!" Peter yelled, stomping over to the rookie who had just shot his CI. "You shoot the criminal, not the goddamn man we're trying to rescue!"

Snatching the gun from the trembling Agent, Peter whirled around. Each member of the FBI was frozen, deers in headlights. He scrunched up his nose, and fought to contain the urge to punch the rookie in the face. For Christ's sakes Peter didn't even know how a rookie that stupid made it onto the team.

"For God's sakes, go collect Edwards!" Peter exploded, shooting a pleading look at Jones, who promptly dialed 911.

With the anger quickly dissipating fro his body, Peter made his way to Neal. His blue eyes were open again and he was clutching his leg where he was shot. Wincing as his shivers from the cool fall day was moving his leg. Neal's head felt like it was gonna explode and his back was back to feeling like it was on fire. Skin bubbling over, he groaned loudly and watched as Peter's brow furrowed and sympathy pain flashed across his brown eyes.

"Hey Peter." Neal said, a small smile taking over his pale face. His cheeks were flushed and his throat was raw. Neal knew he was going to be in the hospital for several weeks, the wounds on his back heeling, a concussion on top of that and a gunshot wound to boot.

"Neal. Neal. I thought…. never do that again." Peter whispered, his shoulders slumping at the pitiful sight of his friend. He remembered when he found out Neal was missing.

He had raced to Hughes the minute Neal had left his house, telling him to pull the entire operation. He didn't care how important this was, he needed Neal back in one piece. Peter laughed maniacally at this fact now because here Neal was and he was in more pieces than a puzzle. Heck, Peter was in more than one piece. His heart was crumbling at every moment he sat there watching Neal's glazed eyes become more distant and his cheeks become more and more pale. It was good that he was conscious but he doubted Neal would stay that way for much longer.

The team had then rushed to the warehouse, Neal and Edwards nowhere to be seen. Peter had wanted to quit there, scream and cry and just give up. He wanted to give in to the part of him that told him Neal was already gone. But he held out, putting a mask Caffery would be proud of on and telling his team to keep looking stoically. The missing red blink of the anklet's tracker was what had haunted Peter the most. He knew Neal wouldn't have cut it. No that was all Edwards. All him. They finally tracked him down, a chinese restaurant employee had reported seeing Edwards disposing of a needle.

Peter jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and he shifted to the side as the EMTs packed Neal onto a gurney. Neal looked at Peter, his eyes big and blue and wide. They connected, actually looked at Peter for the first time in 3 minutes before rolling back. Before his body went limp and he relaxed into the gurney, his feet swaying at every jerking movement it made as it was loaded into the ambulance.

"I'm going with him." Peter pleaded, reaching for his badge when the two medical professionals shared a weary look. "Please. I'm the only family he has."

They nodded and motioned for him to follow and Peter thanked them, not caring that tears were streaming down his face. The ambulance ride was uneventful, the paramedics trying desperately to ask Peter questions about Neal's history. Earning glares and shrugs in response.

"You've got to know something." The EMT said exasperated.

"The only thing that I know is that has a history of seizures due to a trauma to the head. We've been over this." Peter sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, drained.

She rolled his eyes and he wanted to slug her. He was trying, he really was, he wished that he knew more. But it was Neal, Neal who dodged any personal matter, slinking away as the FBI Agents talked about their worst injuries, worst hospital visits and trips.

"You are so helpful." She deadpanned, her partner shooting daggers into her. At least he respected Peter enough not to mess with him.

They pulled up to the hospital and Peter sank into a green chair, drained, gone. it had been such a long day. Such a long operation. Such a long year. And it all tied back to Kate. Peter despised that women, hated her for hurting Neal, for running away, pretending to die, for coming back. God how much he hated her for coming back. But really he hated himself. He hated that he hadn't protected Neal enough, that he didn't keep him from running back into Kate's arms, into Sam's trap. Into the hellhole that landed him in the hospital.

Kate, the name now meant more to him than any other. It meant pain, it meant destruction, it meant loss and death and hatred all at once. But Neal was Peter's favorite (besides El) because it meant friendship and second chances, it meant happy endings, getting better. But most of all it meant hope. Hope that Neal would get out of this alive, that Peter would wake up to blue eyes and snarky comments, to art and intelligence. And the doctor that walked up to him held all that in the paper in his hands. In his words.

"Sir, Caffery is…"

**A/N I know, I know I'm evil. Mwahaha. I think they will only be another chapter or so and then the fic will be over *cries* I'm gonna miss this story. I hope you liked this chapter, please review :)**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/n This is it. **

"Sir Caffery is…." The doctor trailed off and Peter's throat went dry.

"He's dead isn't he?" Peter choked on sobs, falling back into the chairs, burying his fcae in his arms.

"No! No, he's fine. He just has a long time ahead of him where he's gonna be in the hospital." The doctor quickly corrected.

Peter went from devastated to angry real damn fast. How could he trail off like that? Let Peter think that Neal was gone? He wanted to get the man fired, he wanted to drag him to court, throw him in jail. He wanted so much more than saying a measly thanks and zipping down the hallway to Neal's room.

But he forgot all that when he took a look at the conman. He was sitting up, eyes on the vent. Hell-bent on finding a way out. Peter burst out laughing at the sight because it was just so darn Caffery. Injured and needing medical care but couldn't help but search for a way out.

"Move a finger beyond that sheet and I swear to God you will be handcuffed to that bed and monitored every minute of every day." Peter said, a smile breaking out after he finished laughing.

Neal's eyes darted quickly over, a blush spreading on his cheeks. He was caught and he knew it. He smiled sheepishly and Peter couldn't help but think that this was the most he'd ever seen of the plain Neal. Not the conman but the person who had once been Danny Brooks.

"Morning Peter." Neal winced at the roughness of his voice.

He wanted to put on a show, pretend that this didn't hurt him. but he was too tired to. Neal didn't care anymore, especially because this was Peter. It was Peter and their friendship was strong enough for him to just be himself. To be the man without all the cons, without all the charm. But the one so damn insecure it was hard to function sometimes. The one who grew up in a broken home.

"Morning Neal. " Peter replied, music to say that. To say that and to get a reply to actually see and hear that Neal was living breathing, intact. Neal.

"I'm sorry." Neal whispered and Peter was taken aback. Surprised that Neal felt like he had to say that.

"Why?" It was said with more bite than Peter liked and he felt a pang of guilt as Neal flinched. He wasn't acting, he was bare.

"I shouldn't have run away, I shouldn't have gone with Kate." Neal said.

Peter sunk down into the chair beside the bed. Eyes darting around the white, white room.

"It's not your fault. You love her." Peter stated slowly. It wasn't a reassurance, it was just a fact and they both knew it.

"Loved her." Neal corrected, teeth breaking out, a full blown smile.

"Loved." Peter agreed, laughing.

Neal was safe, intact and knew that Peter would always be there. His friend, his partner, his family. And he was okay with that. He was done running away, into a fantasy with Kate. He was okay with the here and now, with the future. He was free.

**A/n I'm so sad it's over but it was a great thing to write. Thank you all for reading it and thank you Jommy26 for giving this prompt to me. I know I took a lot of creative lisense on it but I hope that you did enjoy it. **


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